Meeting by Starlight
by Crystalline Temptress
Summary: 2 cookies for the DMHG cookie jar. Hermione and Draco have a tryst atop the Astronomy Tower. Expect some soul-purging tinted with a dash of chemistry.
1. Masquerade

Meeting by Starlight  
By the Crystalline Temptress (C.T.)

Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_; J.K. Rowling does. Don't sue me. I don't own _The Phantom of the Opera_ either. The author of this book is Gaston Leroux. The composer of the song _Masquerade_ (which is used below) is Andrew Lloyd Webber. I'm not making any money out of this venture.

Notes: Wow, it's been a long time since I've written a fanfic. (And it's my first time to write a Draco/Hermione piece, to boot.) I'm a bit rusty, I think. I haven't edited this, so there may be some misspelt words or some typos. . . . Anyway, C&C would be lovely.

--- 

She had been watching him for some time now. It was difficult not to do so, with the starlight burning halos of gold into his silver-cerulean eyes, gilding his pale skin, streaking threads of pearlescence through his blond hair. He looked more like a winter-kissed god than the haughty git she had known all throughout the seven years she had studied in Hogwarts, and it unnerved her. She had always looked at him as Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin brat who had time and again pathetically attempted to make her life miserable. The story remained to be as such during the day; she would be impassive, stoic--disapproving, sometimes--but indifferent nonetheless. But during the night, when he and she stood side by side under the light of the silvery moon . . . it was a different tale. 

"_So_. You're here again." His voice was a rich, alto purr that made her quiver inside. 

Hermione Granger chose to look out into the indigo night sky before answering. "I was first, anyway." 

"No, you weren't," he drawled. "We came at the same time, if you recall." He leaned upon the stone wall casually, in one of the gaps along the stone designed for the medieval archers, mindless of the long plunge below if he were to accidentally slip. He drew his thick robes around him more tightly as the wind rose around them. 

Hermione shivered with the cold. She followed Draco's example, gathering her robes to her body. They remained in silence for long moments before she spoke. 

"Why do you come to the Astronomy Tower, anyway? I thought that only heartbroken lovers came here so that they could drink and wallow in their misery." 

Draco glanced at her. "Are you heartbroken?" he asked simply. 

"Of course not," she retorted.

"I'm not either." His lips curled into a smirk. "I came here to think. Which, I'm assuming, is the same reason why you're here. Everyone thinks that the Astronomy Tower is for the lovesick, so it's left alone. Which makes it a convenient place." He paused. "It's funny; we've been seeing each other here for the past week, and you only ask now." 

"Well, you're usually so hostile," Hermione pointed out. "I wasn't in the mood to verbally spar with anyone, so I chose to keep quiet, until. . . ." _Until you gave me your cloak._ "Until you exhibited a remarkable display of manners and chivalry." 

One evening of theirs was almost cut short because Hermione had forgotten her robes. She meant to return to her private quarters, thinking of spending the evening there instead, but Draco wordlessly offered her his own. She asked him if it was alright, and he replied shortly (but courteously enough) that he had thermal clothing underneath. So she took it, and that marked the start of their conversation. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. She guessed that he knew what instance she was referring to, but he chose not to say a word. Again, the two of them immersed themselves in silence until this time, Draco broke it. 

"Can you keep a secret, Granger?" he asked nonchalantly. "I guess you could. I mean, you could've turned me in for wandering the halls at night, being the Head Girl." He answered his own question. 

Hermione stared at him. She shrugged. "As long as you won't be revealing plans of world domination or any Dark Activity." 

To her surprise, he actually chuckled. The sound traveled through her like fire, setting her nerve endings ablaze. 

"No, it's got nothing to do with that." Draco leaned forward slightly, closing the meager distance between the two of them. "Remember what you said about being hostile, Granger?" he breathed into her ear. She barely managed a nod, distracted as she was by his proximity. "D'you know The _Phantom of the Opera_?" 

"Yes," Hermione said earnestly. "I've loved it ever since I was a child. . . . " 

"So you would know _Masquerade_." 

She nodded, already beginning to see what he was hinting at. "_Masquerade/Paper faces on parade/Masquerade/Hide your face so the world will never find you_. . . . " She trailed off. 

"_Seething shadows, breathing lies/Masquerade/You can fool any friend who ever knew you_." Draco looked at Hermione intently, who, in turn, fixed him with a level stare that (she hoped) betrayed none of her emotions. "Slytherin is a house full of deception and subterfuge . . . as well as stereotypes and expectations. So if one can't meet the demands of society . . . he puts on a mask." He laughed humorlessly. "But you wouldn't know about that, would you? Gryffindors don't care for secrets and lies. . . . You're all honest, loyal--" 

"Don't be presumptuous," Hermione said testily. "Not all Gryffindors are as _honest_ and _loyal_ as you think." An image of the Marauders briefly flickered in her mind, Peter Pettigrew's image lingering longest, but she shooed it away quickly. "So you're wearing a mask. Why don't you 'take it off,' then?" 

"_Leering satyrs, peering eyes/Masquerade/Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you_. Does that answer your question?" he sneered. The arrogance in him sparked for a moment, but it didn't burn long. He exhaled softly and crossed his arms, staring out into the star-strewn heavens. "Walls in Slytherin talk, Granger. Whatever I say and whatever I do in there will get to my father. In fact, I'm not so certain that no one's listening to me right now." He sighed in agitation. "I come here to the Tower to get away from it all. I think about how I could possibly leave it all behind permanently, but the answer is always glaringly clear: I can't. At least, not while my father's alive." He buried his face into his hands. 

Hermione searched for something to say. She didn't expect such soul-purging, especially not from Draco Malfoy. To _her_, of all people. To Hermione Granger, one of the best friends of his arch rival, Harry Potter. 

She settled for the only thing she could think of. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," he said tersely. 

Hesitantly, she reached out to him and placed her hand upon his back. He stiffened for a moment, tensing with the first physical contact they had established during their nights together. He raised his head from his hands to look at her sharply. 

"Now _I'll_ tell you a secret," Hermione whispered. "I have something to show you." She reached into the pocket of her nightgown and drew forth a tiny Sneakoscope. "This whistles whenever there's malicious intent around. It's a handy thing to have around as the Head Girl." She ventured a smile at Draco, who was watching her incredulously. "This assures me that you're not lying, and this assures _you_ that I _will_ keep your secret. At the same time, it makes sure that no one's listening to us." She slipped it back into her pocket and patted it proudly. 

"Intelligent, aren't you?" Draco said with a wry smile. 

"I want to do my job as Head Girl properly, that's all," Hermione said modestly, though she blushed with mild guilt at her own adventures atop the Astronomy Tower. Draco seemed to be thinking the same thing, though, for he smirked at her in the knowing way he was wont to do. 

They drifted into silence one more time. This was a short one, though, because Draco muttered something unintelligible. 

"What?" Hermione asked. 

"I said, 'Thanks, Granger.' " Draco glanced at her. His gold-limned eyes pierced her soul. "For listening to me whinging on about my life." 

Hermione offered a tiny smile. "You're welcome," she replied. After a moment's hesitation, she reached out to him again and placed her hand atop his. This time around, he didn't tense up. 

--- 

Notes: I wanted to put a reference here to the Draco constellation, but I wasn't so certain whether or not they'd see it where they were, due to location and time, so I'll just save that thought for another fic. 

I'm happy that I was able to explain Draco's belligerent behavior in this snippet. Whee! 

I'm going to find time to do a sequel, this time from Draco's point of view. It'll be Hermione's turn to open up about _her_ life. :)


	2. Everybody Hurts

Meeting by Starlight II  
By the Crystalline Temptress (C.T.)

Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_; J.K. Rowling does. Don't sue me. I'm not making any money out of this venture.

Notes: Here's the promised second cookie, this time from Draco's point of view. (Wow, this part was actually more difficult to write than I thought it would be! Maybe it's because I have tonsillitis right now.)  
This part makes small mentions of books 3 and 4 of the HP series.  
As always, C&C is welcome. 

--- 

He had been watching her for some time now. It was difficult not to do so, with the moonlight weaving plaits of honey through her auburn hair, warming her creamy skin, glowing gold in the white flannel nightgowns she was fond of. She looked so soft, so vulnerable . . . so unlike the Hermione Granger he knew outside of the Astronomy Tower. In Draco Malfoy's seven years of study at Hogwarts, he always knew Granger to be the bossy, snooty know-it-all who had no right to be as such, being a Mudblood. All the teachers loved her (except for the Head of his house, Snape, for which Draco was grateful--the little chit couldn't have everything, after all; it just wouldn't be fair); she got top marks in everything; she was Head Girl. He didn't like it; she was just a _Mudblood_, while he was _Draco Malfoy,_ a pureblood wizard of good descent, respectable, wealthy, and intelligent. He didn't find it right that a Muggleborn girl of no importance beat him in academics. 

It was funny, then, that he had chosen to open up to her. To _her_, of all people. To the best friend of Harry Potter, his arch rival, another one of those insignificant people who managed to trample on his popularity. 

It was even funnier that she listened to him. They had made it clear in the past that they were less than friends; she even had the nerve to slap him once. Of course, retaliated a year later by enlarging her already large two front teeth. It was his revenge (even if he wouldn't admit to himself that she looked rather nice after she had taken advantage of the reversing spell to make her teeth normal sized). 

The funniest thing yet was that she promised to keep his secrets safe, vowing upon the little Sneakoscope she kept in her pocket. 

Draco sighed. He disliked complications; they made life more unbearable than it already was. Yet he had brought it upon himself by heaping his feelings and fears upon Hermione, who, in turn, made it even _more_ complicated with her sympathy. He believed that mutual exchanges of feelings were dangerous because they might lead to love, and love might, in turn, lead to hate. A hate born out of love, Draco thought, was the worst complication possible. 

Draco let out a low groan and buried his face in his hands. 

"Knut for your thoughts?" Hermione's voice pierced his dark thoughts. Draco looked up. She was smiling at him--the kind smile that always sent a bittersweet pang through his chest, the smile that promised safety, warmth, and comfort. 

Hate bloomed in him, splintering in his insides, slicing through his unresisting flesh. Hate for his masquerade. Hate for Slytherin, hate for his family, hate for being Draco Malfoy. . . . 

"Malfoy?" 

"It's nothing," he snapped. Before he could control it, his mouth formed a second response. "Sod off." 

Her eyes darkened. "Fine," Hermione said sharply. She stared at him for long moments, lips pursed. Then, without another word, she swept through the door, back into the confines of the castle. 

"Oh, bugger," Draco muttered, feeling guilt blossom in place of the hate (which was unusual for him, as he almost always never felt guilty). He ran through the door as well, hoping to catch Hermione. 

"Wait!" he called. He could see her cloaked form in the distance. "Granger, wait!" She didn't slacken her pace, nor did she turn to look. 

Finally he caught up with her. He grasped her arm and yanked her to him with more strength than he intended to use; she nearly lost her balance, stumbling with a small yelp. He gripped her shoulders to steady her.

"Listen--" He whirled Hermione around. 

"I should've known that you'd never be civil to me," she interrupted. To his surprise, she wasn't staring at him with the loathing or the hatred he was expecting to see. She merely looked tired. Tired and disappointed. 

"I didn't mean to go off on you like that. I'm like that in Slytherin, and I'm used to it," Draco explained. As apologies went, it wasn't much, but it was all he could manage to say. 

Her eyes were guarded in the faint, multi-colored light shining through the stained glass windows. "Alright," she said consideringly. She sighed. 

"We're lucky that no one wanders these halls at night. . . . Otherwise, someone would've heard us for sure," she murmured. Draco saw her hand slip into her nightgown pocket, finding security in her little Sneakoscope. "I should add a presence detector to this. . . ." she muttered to herself. "Just so I'm aware if someone's coming, malicious intent or not." 

"Sounds good," Draco agreed. "Now . . . shall we return to the Tower?" 

Hermione nodded once, somewhat warily. 

They returned to their thinking place and took their respective places before resuming conversation. "So . . . you wanted to know what I was thinking." Draco was the first to speak. 

"Only if you'll let me know," Hermione replied. "You seemed rather defensive, so I'm assuming that it's a touchy subject." 

"Somewhat." Draco shrugged. "I was just thinking that it's ironic." 

"What is?" 

"Us." He didn't mean to make it sound so suggestive. 

He saw Hermione's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and he bit back a smirk. "What about us?" she demanded. 

"We're arch rivals--" 

"--not really _arch rivals_, but we're not the best of friends--" 

"Yes. But I've somehow confided in you. It's odd. You're odd." 

He risked a glance at her. He was surprised to see that she was grinning. "What?" 

"If you ask me, you're the odd one. I never thought that you'd talk to me; I mean, you're always such a git. . . ." 

"Because whatever I do--" 

"Returns to your father, I know." Hermione sighed. "You know, my mum and dad . . . they don't understand the magical world at all. They can't relate when I go on and on about how fantastic magic is." 

"Really? That's sad." 

"I know. And when they hear about . . . Voldemort," she winced, "they panic and suggest that maybe I should return to the Muggle world. I love it there, really, but now that I've experienced what it's like to live in a magical community, I just can't leave. I'm too endeared to the sights, the people, and the magic." 

"I suppose that no one's life is perfect," Draco murmured after a long pause. 

Hermione let out an "uh-hmm" of agreement. 

They lingered in silence for a long time, listening to the wind blow through the treetops and watching the stars spiral across the night sky in their eternal dance. 

Finally, Hermione spoke. "Thanks, Malfoy." 

Draco looked at her incredulously. "For what?" 

She smiled. A new emotion sparked inside him. It frightened him. 

"For listening to me whinging on about my life." With that, she turned around and retreated back into the castle. 

"Wait!" he cried out, still gripped by the overwhelming new feeling. 

Hermione looked back in surprise. 

"Are you coming back here tomorrow?" 

Slowly, Hermione shook her head. "I think I've done enough thinking. What about you?" 

"Yeah, me too." Realization struck him like lightning. He knew that he came to the Astronomy Tower to think about how bloody awful his life was and what he could do about it. He didn't have an answer yet, nor did he have a solution, but he _did_ have something new, something less sinister to think about. 

"Nobody's life is perfect, right?" Draco said. 

Hermione nodded. "Everybody hurts. You'll make it; we all do. And your secrets are safe with me." A new thought seemed to occur to her, and she smiled. "You know, since I've been thinking so much these past few days, I think I'm going to spend more time in the library." 

Draco's lips curled into a smirk. "I've got to catch up on my studies as well. . . ." 

Hermione's smile turned wry. "Very well. Don't let me stop you." She disappeared through the threshold.

Draco remained behind to watch the canopy of the evening sky one last time. This time, his mind lingered upon Hermione. 

Chuckling to himself, he too went inside, thoughts bright with the promises of tomorrow. 


End file.
